


Into The Night

by SweetDevilMePlease



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon Gay Relationship, Dad Tom Hiddleston, Dom Tom, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Established Chris Hemsworth/Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Homoeroticism, Hot Hybrid Sex, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mpreg, Werewolf Chris Hemsworth, mom chris hemsworth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDevilMePlease/pseuds/SweetDevilMePlease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is the only know oldest vampire out there, given the title of King, he doesn't play around when it comes to his 'mate.' Unknowing to Chris, a werewolf by blood, but surprisingly not by nature, finds himself in several encounters with Tom, who knows more about the young boy than even he knows. Chris, his true bloodline unknown and Tom's background hidden, will learn his true place in the now unfamiliar world he has been forced to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Night

The night was dark, cold and wet. The rain had washed away old scents, but it brought a round of new with it. But for Chris, the rain brought irritation. He really wish he had gotten a jacket. He was wet and cold, and he didn't particularly like wet and cold. He just wish it would quit raining. He could handle the weather then. He looked around, feeling a little weirded out. It was quiet, much more so than normal. He felt as if someone were watching him. It wasn't anything new to Chris. He'd had the feeling ever since he could put a name to the feeling. His eyes shifted left to right nervously, and his pace quickened to a brisk jog. 

Chris sighed breathlessly when he finally made it to his apartment. When he reached the door, the feeling of being watched eased off his shoulders as he slid the key into the lock and opened the door. The rain stopped when he closed the door. The blonde sighed and stripped off his soaked clothes. The feeling of being watched returned, but now that he was in his own place with the doors securely locked, it didn't bother him as much as he stalked to the bathroom naked. He squeezed each article of clothing out one by one over the tube. He pushed back a strand of golden blonde hair, squeezing the last drop of water out of his sock. He then proceeded to take them along with the rest of his dirty clothes, and he threw them in the washing machine to be washed.

Something warm, soft and smooth trailed down his sides. He shuddered at the feeling, whirling around, because no one was supposed to be in his apartment. He came face to face with soft green eyes. Chris' instant reaction was to punch the ever living shit out of the man standing in front of him, in which he did. The green eyed man rocked back on his heels just enough to slip out the laundry room. When Chris looked back, the man was gone. He went around the house, making sure every door and window to the outside world was locked. He sat down on the couch in the living room, rubbing his knuckles. Surely, he really saw what he did. He definitely  _felt_  what he did. His knuckles were red and sore. He sighed. Maybe he was just tired. He got up, climbing up the stairs to his his bedroom. He sprawled across his bed after putting on some boxers and a tank top. He crawled under the comforter and shuddered. He was definitely more than creeped out.

* * *

Tom sat on the roof, nursing his swelling cheek. His hand was cold, and he was thankful for it as he touched his right cheek. That hit was a lot harder than he expected. The young werewolf honestly didn't have any clue how strong he really was. He  _tsk_ ed as he listened down below to Chris' soft snores. He crossed his legs, letting them dangle off the edge of the roof. He took his usual position, doing his usual task. He pulled a file from his pocket, grooming his nails as always. It was his job, his duty to watch over the big idiot. Twenty years ago, he had lay claim to Chris. When he first saw him, swathed in a blanket coming out of the hospital, he knew Chris would be his.

Tom brushed filings off his pants and he laid back, crossing his legs. He locked his hands behind his head. Sooner or later he would have to provoke Chris, get him to change, make him realize what he truly is. It was a well kept secret that both of his parents came from a long line of werewolves dating back as far back as when Tom was first born in 1281 (which meant he was 733). The sound of rain in the far distance made the vampire groan, and roll off the roof, land gracefully on the balls of his feet. He'd found a way into Chris' apartment without disturbing the young man. He lifted up the mat in front of the door. There lie a key, which he picked up and inserted in the lock, twisting it slowly, so as not to wake Chris. He opened the door with just the right amount of pressure to keep it from making noises. He put the key back in its place and moved to lay on the too large leather couch. It creaked only a bit underneath his weight.

Tom grew comfortable on the couch, burying his face in a pillow, almost as if he were depended on the pillow to hide him if Chris decided to come down, as he did every so often to watch tv in the middle of the night. He breathed in the scent of the man. There were a mixture of scents Tom could pick apart: Axe body spray, sweat, cinnamon, and this particular pillow had a woman's biological on it. It was musky, like the scent of a true werewolf. Tom had always found the scent--and the danger, but mostly the scent-- of a werewolf arousing.

A knock on the door made Tom look up from the pillow. He sighed softly, and he set the pillow down. Just the faint smell of perfume outside the door told the vampire that it was the girl Chris had taken a fancy to. Tom often snorted at the girl. She didn't look like Chris' type. She was one of those 'scene' girls, with the big, multi colored hair. 'Skittle girl' is how Tom remembered her, since he could never remember her name. The knocking grew louder, the sound soon reaching Chris' ears. Tom made himself invisible as the sleepy blonde as he staggered down the stairs to the front door. He sat down on the back of the couch, watching Chris open the door to reveal a wet, rainbow haired twenty-two year old.

"Jamie?" he questioned tiredly, dumbfounded why she was standing at his door in the pouring rain so early in the morning.

 _Skittle Girl looks upset,_ Tom thought to himself, crossing his arms.  _I wonder why. Not that I'm concerned about the freak._  

Chris let her inside, going to the bathroom to get a towel for her to curl up in and dry off. The brute spoiled her too much, Tom thought. He brought down the hair dryer and straightener she left at his house, leading her to sit in the floor in the living. Tom moved from his spot on the couch to the stairs once he'd came back down. He watched him blow dry her hair, placing kisses along her neck every once in a while, and then straightened her hair from it's curly puff. Tom remember Jamie showing Chris how she does her hair. Chris had a wonderful memory and a hand for hair. Going to get a can of hairspray, brush, and comb, he set to work on her hair. Skittle Girl giggled uncontrollably at the idea of Chris doing her hair. He tugged to hard with comb only a few times, forgetting how tender headed she was to certain tugs, unlike Chris, who could have his hair yanked as hard as humanly possible without it hurting. When he was done, he sat everything aside and shrugged out of his shirt to give it to her.

"What brings you here in the cold and wet early morning?" Chris asked.

She looked up at him, blue eyes suddenly somber. "It's my dad...He died a few hours ago. He passed in his sleep."

"I'm not trying to be a douche when I say this..." Chris trailed off, leaving Tom to think  _Then don't say it, you moron!_ "But didn't you and your dad not like each other very much?"

Tom sighed softly. He was a big idiot for choosing this one. He climbed up the stairs to the hall window. He slowly worked it open so it wouldn't squeak. He slipped out and seemed to levitate in his spot outside the window, closing it just as quietly before dropping behind some bushes, scaring and early morning jogger into a flat out run. Tom rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his thick curly hair. He'd be back tonight to check on him, as always. He was sure the werewolf couldn't get into much trouble while he slept through the awakening of the sun. Hands in his pockets, Tom walked down the road, following the path he'd always taken home. 

 


End file.
